My Confession for Death
by Target22
Summary: "Here it is Princess. I bestow upon you the confession of my transgression. Seven years of sin, chronicled so that my end may come swiftly. Forgive my disheveled penmanship, your warden refuses to remove my cuffs. Trepidation is no longer necessary yet this craven quivers in a most absurd manner. Regardless, I ask that you read each word and trust it as truth." - Link
1. Chapter 1: First Sin

Lamentably I am afraid I cannot even begin these confessions properly as I am unable to bequeath even mine own date of birth. For some esoteric reason those progenitors, who under normal circumstances would be considered "parents", repudiated their suckling babe. Whether by kismet or calamity, certainly the former in my own opinion, I was found and rescued by a most articulate tree. The villagers, whom I could write about in great detail, but will remain brief as I am sure they are of the most nominal concern to you, worshiped this animated vegetation.

You are no doubt well-versed in my sacrilege. Blasphemy being one of the atrocities attributed to my incarceration. During my time amongst the immortal babes of the forest I had no such inklings. Nearly a decade passed where I believed The Great Deku Tree was irreproachable. Do not arbitrate me for being deceived by the oak. What reason did I have to doubt my deity? Ten monotonously blissful years passed where every want was met and every need was fulfilled. Is that not how you have imagined your life under the rule of the Goddesses? Or is it your aspiration to perpetually grovel on your knees for not but the measliest of necessities? How calamitous.

Would you care to know when my veil was lifted? How a mere infant is liberated of his theistic delusions while entire kingdoms continue to be ruled by charlatans and ethereal beings? He asked for help. The almighty protector, undaunted guardian, omnipotent father of the Kokiri children needed the help of a mute, ten year old innocent. There is no pardon for this. What God needs children to carry out his will, let alone save his life? Remember that I asked that question.

Of course I agreed to lend my aid. In that moment I believed I was being honored. Chosen from amongst my peers to repay my debt for a decade's worth of sanctuary. I expected to perish. Entering the maw of my God, descending into the depths of his core, I was prepared to meet my demise. Imagine my surprise when a mere insect was the source of The Great Deku Tree's ailment.

I was distraught. Not because the might of my enemy, (my warden eyes me nervously as I laugh aloud) but because how insignificant a creature she really is. The dots are connected swiftly. The proverbial veil is lifted. The clouds part. For the first time rays of light pierce the nimbus and reveal my surroundings. The spoon driven towards my mouth brings, not sweetness and peace, but a mound of feces. Shit, as the troglodytes call it. Here is where I commit my first sin.

Since I failed to provide the date of my birth or an acceptable surname, accept in their stead an insight as to why I have transgressed. I do not expect the princess to be moved by my words, nor do I fathom she would enjoy them. Under the laws of Hyrule a confession grants a more swift death – beheading or hanging – and I would rather enjoy my last moments confined to Earth's bosom. Crucifixion, I fear, would taint my last vanishing opinion of this realm.

No doubt many of you will cry that this was done with hubris. I expect only few to read this (my warden lost interest hours ago while I contemplated the third paragraph) and those who read to the end will find no such thing. You will see me as I am, and hopefully yourself.

* * *

 **Author's Note: The rest of the chapters will not be this short. Though the story as a whole should not be much longer than twelve chapters. Enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2: Asininity

My damnation was ascertained the same instant my faith was replaced with revelation. My god was nothing more than a manipulative charlatan who spent his days duping children. But who would believe me? The fact that I was not Kokiri was, at the very least, suspected by the entire population. How could I convince them of what I witnessed? Worse than that, how was I, a boy of ten, going to perorate louder than The Great Deku Tree himself?

"He has to die."

At first the utterance seemed deranged, even to me. I was brought there by a servant of The Great Deku Tree in good faith. My father had made himself vulnerable, allowing me into his core, because he trusted his son. Even if he had been able to peer through this vessel of flesh and into my soul, at that instant he would have seen only innocence (assuming such a thing truly exists). Mere hours later, standing amongst his roots if he had used that same postulate ability he would have seen bile and hate. Enough animosity to drive a son towards the murder of his father.

Instead of crushing Gohma like the insect she was, I allowed her to continue her destructive nesting. It happened so quickly. In just minutes that demon arachnid ruined the base of the great oak. As I sit here now I shiver, not because of this "alluring" "temperate" cell, but from recalling her uncouth movement.

It is typical for folk to fear spiders, yes? Wasps and the sort too? I asked Craven – my name for my warden – but in his established manner he did not deem me worthy of an answer. I am obliged to ask because despite my sojourn I have a poor understanding of the common man's revulsions. Only that I appear to rank somewhere on that list.

Gohma wriggled and writhed about, lashing at the roots imprisoning her as though she shared my exasperation. When she grew tired the parasitic queen would lay eggs and allow her children to wreak havoc. The monster and her spawn stayed far away from me, fearing the sting of my borrowed blade. I watched these proceedings until I heard an emphatic moan ripple through the roots. That was it. that was what I had been waiting for. The death throes of The Great Deku Tree.

My use for Gohma was expended. With laughable ease I exterminated the disease I had originally been summoned to erase. I cleaned my blade, adjusted my tunic, then ascended to the confrontation that was waiting on the surface. Except there was no confrontation. The Great Deku Tree was indeed dying, but he mistook my murderous intentions, for failure. The old fool. He "comforted" me, assuring me that my failure was not a sign of ineptitude. With his last words he bid me protect the village, and his children.

I considered his end, their beginning. The beginning of a new life, free from a tyrant who relied on deception.

My asininity should be listed amongst my sins. I could not imagine being so wrong.

The mourning was to be expected. Sweet dulcet lambs. They cried until their bodies could no longer produce the salt for proper tears.

The questions were expected. Curious children being curious children. The Kokiri wanted to know how their father died. Why I was the one who was summoned. Why I smelled like death and decay.

The fairy was not expected. That termagant piss! The Great Deku Tree had sent a spy to watch over me whilst I carried out his task. Somehow she had avoided detection and chose then, that moment in front of the entire village, to reveal my abhorrent crime.

For those of you ignorant of fairies, it is known that they cannot lie. A fairy, through the entirety of its damned life, cannot utter a single phrase that even eludes fact.

"Link chose to let The Great Deku Tree perish!" she cried. Gasps and quivers rolled through the congregation. "The Great Deku Tree's blood is on his hands!"

The congregation quickly became a mob. I was chased out of my adopted village without even an opportunity to defend myself. I escaped into the Lost Woods, a place where Kokiri dare not enter.

I thought the whole matter was just-as-well. They did not need me to usher them into –what I thought at the time was – an era of enlightenment. Surely it was the path of the hero (though I never truly considered myself as such. Surely none of you do either) to find himself desolate. Instead of wallowing in self-pity I decided to break the first rule of my deceased ruler.

Do not leave the forest.

I left the forest and just at its edge, I saw her.

My love.

My dear.

My sweet.

The light to my fire.

My soul.

Saria.

Know this now reader: Despite my hands drawing the life from her alluring, ravishing, beautiful, pulchritudinous body. Her death is not MY sin.

* * *

 **Author's Note: The rating will be jumping up to "M" in a couple chapters.**


	3. Chapter 3: Unappreciated

Never in my diminished life had I ever been so elated to be aphasic. Had I been born with the ability to speak, in that moment with my Saria, I would have no doubt blabbered like an imbecile. With my hands full of my belongings it was impossible to sign, leaving all the talking to sweet Saria.

Her goodbye was laconic. I cannot decry her for her sparse words. Truly, what was there to be said? Her few short words and discernible expression, were enough to let me know that despite the fairy's truths, her heart still belonged to me. Her heart, and her last kiss.

I am afraid these next few pages will be very boring for you. Contrary to the stories the mothers of Hyrule use to frighten their children, I did not go on some feral murdering spree. Snatching children, raping frightened women, biting the heads off chickens. None of that ridiculousness. My follies, like those of most saints and sinners, were disguised as necessities.

It is a shame I led such an assiduous life these past years. That this piece would be my only written work disheartens me greatly. I would have very much enjoyed taking the time to sit down and write out my own thoughts and opinions of Hyrule. Because of my veiled upbringing I was granted the opportunity to behold your kingdom with equitable eyes. That, combined with my handicap, allowed me to absorb the truths, perceived truths, and milieu of the realm.

With ease I could write about the working class of Hyrule. Of their devotion to the monarch and the goddesses. Of the paramount role they play in the prosperity of Hyrule.

I could scrawl down the effect of proselytizing the young men of the realm, and leading them down the path of a soldier.

I could compose an allegoric prose revealing the truths of chivalry, or the lack thereof, amongst the "heroes" of Hyrule.

Most interestingly, I could create an anecdote that would capture the ignorance and sciolism of Hyrule's bourgeois citizens.

Alas, I have limited myself to this one piece, without even the proper time to proofread or embellish.

But enough about my insipid contrition. Allow me to expedite you through the next five banal years.

The first year in Hyrule was spent defeating my own ignorance and finding a way to provide for myself. The very first domicile I stumbled upon was none other than Lon Lon Ranch. Apprehensively I approached the property and made contact with my first "big" person. The owner of the ranch was a lethargic man by the name of Talon.

Talon was a kind, middle-aged man with thinning hair and a bulbous frame. My first impression of the man was that he made all decisions based on which solutions required a minimal amount of effort. And not in the sort of manner that spurs mankind to invent aqueducts, pulleys, or the printing press. I refer to the sort of manner that delegates responsibilities to a subaltern. In Talon's case, the subordinates were his relatives.

The arduous task of training and exercising the ranch's horses fell to his only daughter, Malon. I met Malon moments after meeting Talon, as he beckoned me through his gate spouting, what I can only assume to be, "parental" nonsense about the hazards of a child being unattended in the wilderness at night. To call the rancher's daughter a moron would be the most venial of exaggerations. All the same, the girl was very amiable when her father introduced me and announced I would be staying the night.

I recall that Malon was sure I was being rude to her when she introduced herself and I would not follow suit. I signed in response but of course she saw only the frantic waggling of fingers. It was here I learned that my handicap was no more common in the land of men than it was amongst Kokiri children. I managed to find parchment and a quill and show her in ink that I was not being impudent. It was here I learned that ranchers cannot be bothered with teaching their daughters how to read.

The other relative working for Talon was his brother Ingo. Unlike his orbicular brother, Ingo was thin and hardy. Sharp of wit, quick of tongue, and a pertinacious worker, the younger brother struck me as the key to success for the ranch. Feeding the animals, cleaning stalls, purchasing grain and feed, milking the cows, piling manure, and performing maintenance on equipment and fencing were the responsibilities that fell onto the man's bowed shoulders. That first night he said little to me, visibly annoyed that a useless vagabond would be stealing from their wares.

Both Talon and Malon told me not to concern myself with Ingo's brashness. I assured the simpletons that I was not bothered, but in truth I was. I needed a place to stay, to accustom myself to the wide world, but I did not want to burden anyone in the process. While the rancher and his daughter assured me I would not be a burden, I knew this was only because they were either too kind, or idiots. As it would turn out, they were both.

It takes not but the most primitive of minds to know that the added liabilities, over time, of even one person are immense. Ingo was the only person who, in my own humble opinion, responded appropriately. So that night I asked Mr. Talon for a job on his ranch. With a "guffaw" he cried that I was surely only saying that because I was in love with his doltish daughter (of course he was not the one to call her doltish. I hope it goes without saying that I was NOT in love with his molasses minded girl). After he wiped the exaggerated tears from his eyes he agreed to keep me on as a new apprentice for as long as I like.

I am enjoying the evoking of memories past. The process is connecting dots my cluttered mind would have otherwise left unattended. For example, if Talon had said no and simply sent me on my way in the morning he would, in all likelihood, have lived to see fifty. But, since the prospect of making his own workload even lighter was so enticing, the man decided to hire a strange mute child with already blood-stained hands.

As I was escorted across the courtroom, amongst the myriad of cries and shouts of malevolence, I distinctly remember the voice of a woman asking, "How do you sleep at night?" Understand that in Kokiri Village I slept on a mattress stuffed with grass and leaves. That first night in Lon Lon Ranch, after fleeing from angry villagers and trekking across Hyrule Field, I slept on a mattress stuffed with feathers, covered in cotton sheets. I slept like a baby. May it come as some sort of consolation prize that the thin blanket, substituting as a bed in this cell, keeps me up at night delivering pain and tremors to my lower back.

I learned the chores of the ranch quickly. The tasks given to me in those first weeks were to clear the manure from the chorale, bring the chicken feed from the warehouse to Talon's shed, clean horse hooves, and milk the heifers. Sure the work was menial but it was contribution. I did not mind at all, particularly because the bovines and the equines fascinated me. Besides Gohma, they were the largest creatures I had ever seen. Despite their superior size and strength they seemed to bend to the will of little girls and soft plump men. The dominance fascinated me.

Most of the duties I absorbed had been Ingo's tasks. After lightening his workload the man seemed much more accepting of my residency. It was he who gave me my first lessons in economics, commerce, accounting, and husbandry. He explained matters like how the price of grain typically attested to its quality, and how low quality grain would make the horses weaker and the cows produce less milk, so it was imperative he not buy the cheapest grain. But he could not buy the highest quality grain either since that added to production costs and meant the ranch would have to increase the prices of their products: beef, milk, eggs, poultry, and horses. Increasing their prices would eventually cause the surrounding villages and city to turn elsewhere for their supply since Lon Lon Ranch did not have a monopoly. With no small amount of pride Ingo elucidated that he had to very carefully determine which grain to buy in order to obtain the greatest profit.

Talon could not be bothered with such matters, it seemed. The older brother, father, employer, and owner of the ranch spent his days feeding his beloved cuccos and napping in his hammock. Besides his chores, Talon expected his younger brother to handle deliveries to all outlying villages and towns save for one. Castletown.

"Such important customers expect to meet only with the owner," Talon had said. After Ingo and I packed the wagon full of milk the ranch owner and his daughter left for Castletown. It was to be just the unappreciated overworked little brother and I for the next few days.

Well, the unappreciated overworked little brother, myself, and Ganondorf.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Next chapter will change the rating to M.**


	4. Chapter 4: Gauntlet

Power.

Raw, unadulterated, power.

The Gerudo man reeked of it as though he strutted through its very essence.

Ganondorf arrived at Lon Lon Ranch astride a massive Lusitano stallion. The horse's coat, and the man's armor were the same piceous hue that only exalted the man's aura.

He rode through the gate and brought his mount to a halt just outside the stables. Ingo wasted no time in tossing his pitchfork aside and practically sprinting towards the man.

"General Ganondorf!" he had cried dropping immediately to his knees. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Curious as curious could be I walked over and stood next to Talon. The man was even more enormous up close.

At the time I did not know that it was Hylian custom to bow before royalty, lords, ladies and superiors. The forest in which I was cultivated had no hierarchy other than The Great Deku Tree. Despite his arrogance not even he asked that his subjects bow to him when he spoke. Ingo mistook my ignorance for insolence.

"What in the hell are you doing boy?" he had cried. "Show the lord your respect."

A deep laugh (the same one I am sure the court is familiar with) resonated from the daunting Gerudo man.

"I like you kid," he had said.

And thus my relationship with Ganondorf was induced.

Slander is amongst my crimes, is it not? Slander against Hyrule's hero, Ganondorf. Well, slander and murder. Funny how that one seems to tumble from thought. I avidly confess to the quelling of that flame of life but I rebuke the charge of slander.

I have confessed to the murder of The Great Deku Tree. I have admitted it was mine own hands that wrought the life from my dear Saria's body. I concede that I slew Hyrule's beloved general. I attest all of these crimes, and many more, so believe me, reader, when I say the accusation of slander is not but an aspersion.

That being said, it would be detrimental were my judges to decide that my confession was not wholesome, so I'm going to have to ask you, the reader, to glean the truth from these next few lines.

Ganondorf was an honorable man.

He had no appetite for nymphets or little girls.

I did not descry him murder a man to rape said man's wife and daughter.

With full confidence I can say that he did not steal sacred relics from the different races of Hyrule.

Without any doubt I may divulge that he bore the princess no ill will, and that his loyalty to the king was absolute and consummate.

* * *

My hand cramps, willing me to crush this quill so that it may never live to vitiate parchment again. It cannot be helped. I will forge ahead with my offhand.

* * *

Ganondorf inquired as to the whereabouts of the ranch owner, then specifically where Malon was. Ingo stuttered some response but the powerful man in black was no longer interested. He demanded his horse be watered and his supplies replenished, then made to leave the humble ranch.

Before he left I grew so bold, so impressed was I by his aura, as to approach him and address him in sign language. To my surprise the man could understand me plainly!

"You can't come with me," he had said in his sonorous voice. "A boy as soft as you could not survive as my squire."

This was a challenge. A gauntlet, thrown at my feet by the most powerful man in Hyrule.

I signed to him that I was able and willing to do whatever he asked of me.

He did not ask me to set the ranch ablaze, steal a horse, and meet him at the edge of the Gerudo Desert.

* * *

My hand threatens to cramp again.

* * *

Truthfully, he did not ask me to murder the ranchers, but I am no fool. The first suspect in such a case of arson would be the mute aboriginal from the woods who has no voice with which to defend himself.

Talon's laziness would go unmissed. Surely nobody would gnash their teeth that the world had been filched Malon's wit. Ingo would be the lone survivor.

I "told" Ganondorf that I would meet him at the edge of the desert in one week's time, stolen horse and ashes in tow.

His response was that resonating deep laugh, but he promised to be there all the same.

I resumed my chores the next day, doubling my pace and working with zeal. At every opportunity I displayed my enthusiasm, playing the part of a thankful child who would never dream of enormity. Ingo was too busy to appreciate my façade but Talon and Malon, upon their arrival, were wholly drawn into an erroneous conclusion.

Five nights had passed, and it would take a full day to reach the edge of the Gerudo Desert. The plan had to be enacted that night.

* * *

Reader, at that age I did not have the luxury of educating myself on the crimes and criminals of Hyrule's history. I believed everything I did that night was original, clever, and adroit. Forgive young me for being so haughty.

* * *

Talon was a heavy sleeper, a man who rose for neither tempest nor trumpet. But just in case, I drenched his door and his window in lard just as noon was passing. When night fell the fat would be hard, stable, and would not give itself away by scent like lantern oil would.

Malon was a light sleeper, a girl who would wake up startled were even a mouse bold enough to scamper across her room in the dead of night. She would have to be dealt with awake. Stabbing or overpowering her would not do. If the fire failed to fully dispose of the bodies, who would the authorities suspect? The uncle who had never wielded a sword in his life or the aforementioned mute, aboriginal who showed up from the forest with his own self-incriminating sword?

I suppose at this point it would help to explain to the reader that the rancher's puerile child fancied yours truly. Upon nights when it stormed, she would sneak into my room and ask to share my covers. I always feigned sleep but that did little to deter the girl.

On that night it would be I who boldly entered her quarters.

Ingo, ever since my occupation of his ranch, resided in the quarters that were attached to the stables. During our time in the field he claimed to enjoy the privacy, little did he know it would save his life and allow him blissful ignorance.

I knocked on Malon's door quietly, then crept in. As I had suspected there was no sneaking up on the timid doe.

"What are you doin' in here Link?" she'd asked while rubbing the sleep from her eye. I used the most crude sign language I could muster, pointing at her bed, forming a pillow with my hands then pointing at myself.

"You want to sleep in my room tonight?" she had asked with a giggle.

 _No, I want to wring your neck so I can spend a millisecond in the shadow of Ganondorf,_ is what she would have gathered were she able to read minds. Alas, she could barely even read parchment.

I nodded my head then climbed into bed with her. Her little body was already quivering with excitement and I had not even begun to beguile her. When she turned her back to me, feigning disinterest, I leaned over her, gently brushed her red hair aside, and blew warm air into her ear. With a shudder and a giggle she turned to face me, excited to take part in whatever game I was playing.

We spent a few minutes tickling each other, picking at one another's night gowns, and waggling our tongues at each other. When my prey puffed her cheeks at me some ten minutes into the merrymaking I darted in and kissed in her on the lips. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. After the initial shock of surprise she tried to come in for a second kiss but I stopped her.

I gestured to her that I wanted to play a game. The gesturing and waving took some time but I finally explained to the hollow minded girl what it was I wanted to do. Curious and excited the poor lamb agreed to be tied to her bedframe.

So as not to cause premature alarm I went ahead and probed and tickled and nuzzled the little girl while she tried to keep herself from squealing and laughing and pulling against her restraints. She started insisting it was my turn to be tied up but I stopped her by saying I still wanted to do one more thing.

Ten year old Link scampered out her door and returned with an apple I had found, deeming it the proper size. I carried it over and told her I would feed her the fruit. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, ready for the strange new game. I insisted she was not opening her mouth wide enough. She opened her jaws even wider. Once more I insisted she was not opening her maw to its full extent.

Finally she stretched her jaw to its absolute limit, straining to keep it open. With one hand I held the too-big fruit against her mouth so that both rows of teeth pierced its flesh. With the other hand I balled up my little fist, then punched the apple as hard as I could.

Her cries of pain were muffled by the broken teeth, hyperextended jaw, and the entrammeling fruit. Her little body fought against the restraints as pain drove her into a frenzy. She would not free herself. She had taught me those knots to secure a one thousand pound horse.

Confident nobody would hear her cries I stepped back into the hallway where my container of lantern fluid was waiting. I covered her bed, her nightgown, her dressers, her rug, her window and her door in oil. Sure that everything necessary was now ready to be consumed by flames I gave Malon one last look. A yellow and green liquid oozed from her little red nose as she sobbed quietly, mouth held impossibly wide-open by her midnight snack. The sight was disgusting.

I left a trail of oil from Malon's room to the door of her father. I did not dare go inside, in case tonight was the one night he decided to be awoken by the slithering scales of the forest boy. Satisfied with my work I ran around, outside, to where Talon's lard covered window was visible twenty feet off the ground. A pile of dry straw was already in place.

I splashed the last of my oil against the wall and on the pile of straw. I took the flint and steel in my hands next. The pile of straw would light first, then the stream of oil inside the house. On the second strike the straw ignited.

Talon did not awake until his doom was guaranteed.

His cries aroused his brother.

Malon could not be heard through the entire blaze.

I was saddled atop Malon's red mare, Epona, and on my way to see Ganondorf before Ingo had fetched his first bucket of water.

* * *

From what I am told, soldiers were in fact summoned to Lon Lon Ranch to investigate the cause of the fire and the two deaths. Ingo confirmed that his brother was a heavy sleeper, and had likely slept through the first half of the fire. Nobody could deduce why Malon hadn't cried out though.

As for the poor mute forest boy, his room was on the first floor and was crushed when the supporting beams turned to ash and the second floor of the burning house crashed atop it. Several horses had kicked their stall doors open in panic and were scattered through Hyrule field and Lon Lon Ranch. Ingo never found his most expensive mare.

While I am confessing I suppose I should explain Malon's final moments. The sheets I used to secure the girl were all made of cotton. They burned to nothing before her skin was licked from her bones by the flames.

And the apple, the apple shriveled in the fire, fell from her mouth, and was probably lying at the feet of the soldiers along with the remnants of the girl's room. All they saw were the blackened remains of a girl missing some of her baby teeth, without any broken bones or traumatic injuries. They could only assume she suffocated from the smoke or panicked and was consumed by the fire.

Her last moments really were an ugly sight.

* * *

 **Author's Note: More to follow.**


	5. Chapter 5: Private Stoning

I could crawl through every facet of every moment I spent with Ganondorf, such is the curse of my recall, but I will not. I will abstain for three reasons.

The first, somehow the court refuses to acknowledge the malefactor that was Ganondorf. So, as I alluded to earlier, I would rather not risk being accused of slander during this honest admission of guilt. In order to trust the veracity of my confession, you would also have to accept the sins of Hyrule's former General. For many years our sins were one and the same. If anything, both our transgressions belonged to him. What squire is expected to bear the crucifix of his liege?

The second, it is out of due regard to the perished. Only out of necessity did I slay Ganondorf. There was no jubilation in the deed. Until the pinnacle of our relationship he trusted me to bury his secrets beneath my mute tongue. As there is no other way to repay him for the years I spent under his protection, my silence will be the last installment of my debt.

The third, for no other reason than the sanctity of my privacy. Even though our friendship ended with me burying my blade to the hilt in his chest, the Gerudo and I shared many a tender moment. Since the law does not require me to confess every moment of bliss - unless said bliss is derived from some titillating crime - I will hold my tongue (quill).

My three reasons for abstaining aside, it is in my best interest to offer the vultures of the court at least a portion of my flesh to chew gnaw on. I will retell two - scratch that - three instances alongside Ganondorf that stick out. The first two happened subsequent to Malon's unfortunate bonfire. And the third, preceding the death of my saccharine Saria. I suppose I still owe you, my enamored reader, an explanation there.

* * *

There is a change of guards happening. Craven is being relieved by some oleaginous sentinel. His hair and beard appear to be slicked back with polish. A ploy to convince his trollops that he is both edgy and fashionable no doubt. His real name bores me so I will call him Mucor mucedo, Muck for short. Mucor mucedo is a light brown fungus that grows on feces. I am only explaining this because Muck had not the slightest idea what his nickname meant. Hopefully the rest of Hyrule is more educated than Craven and Muck or else I will have wasted most of the ink on this parchment.

* * *

Ganondorf wasted no time in thrusting my duties as a squire upon me. That very first night I spent every moment of moonlight polishing his armor, sharpening his sword, filling canteens, brushing his horse, and securing enough firewood for the morning. The chores took me five hours and fifty four minutes the first time. Eventually I was able to do all of that in less than one hour and fifteen minutes.

In the mornings Ganondorf would teach me swordplay. He was an exquisite teacher. He would beat me mercilessly, drawing my blood on nearly every occasion so that when I faced a real opponent only their crimson would show.

"I will be dead before I let my squire embarrass me like this!" he would say when I failed a parry or lost my footing.

Before we broke for camp each night he would send me into the forest with a bow and three arrows. If I returned with anything less than a rabbit or fowl he would share only a handful of the horses' oats. The shabby meal was my punishment for being such a graceless hunter.

When he discovered that I knew nothing about the Gorons - who we were on our way to see - or even the history of Kakariko Village, he demanded I read while I rode. Nearly every stop we made at a village or in Castle Town he would spend my wages on books he deemed necessary for my education.

"Just because I'm the only one that knows you're a fucking moron is no reason to stay one," he would say. I would sign my appreciation to him then dive into my reading.

I share these tender moments with you only because I need you to understand my devotion to Ganondorf. For only with a tremendous amount of devotion would someone embark on the quest I was given; steal the spiritual stones from the other races of Hyrule.

"Those dirt-munching brick dicks refuse to sell their ruby to me," Ganondorf was explaining to me one morning. "And I promised the King that I would bring him a gift worthy of his spoiled brat. It's never wise to be made a liar in the eyes of the King, so we are going to convince them to give it to us."

I asked him how.

Ganondorf touched the side of his nose. "Chief Darunia has a taste for little Hylian boys. We'll get him to give it to you as a gift."

The plan was simple. I was to meet the Goron leader and profess to be a mute musician. While I was entertaining the court Ganondorf would be sabotaging their favorite feeding grounds. In order to excavate their feeding grounds quickly the Gorons would need to go and purchase gunpowder from Castle Town. When I heard about their plight I would conveniently announce that I had on my person, enough ordnance to clear a path so they could promptly resume their "dirt-munching". As payment for the deed, my music, and the enchantment of my presence I would request a Goron Ruby.

As I have wholly accepted about life, things did not go according to plan. When I climbed Death Mountain and introduced myself as a musician, one of the Chief's advisers rushed me to their leader's chambers. Not a throne room or courtroom or foyer, the Chief's private bedchambers. Once there Chief Darunia eyed me from head to toe. After a moment he told his adviser to leave.

I think he was pleased to discover I was a mute. I assume he did not much appreciate the small talk of little boys. Or their pleading objections.

He asked me to play him a song, something upbeat that he could dance to. I knew many songs from my days in the forest. I played the pedophile a jaunty tune I had learned from Saria. Darunia loved it. He began jumping from foot to foot in a ridiculous fashion. He spun and twirled and howled in delight at the tune.

"Hot hot hot!" he bellowed while he danced.

When the song was over he beat on his chest and cheered, his blood now warm and pumping. They say that men get a look in their eyes when their blood is pumping and they see something they want. Many a wench and bar maid has seen the look before getting grabbed, groped, and gored. Ganondorf even had the look in his eyes when a treasure or trollop tickled his fancy. It should not have been a surprise when that Gorons get that look too.

Before I could move Darunia leapt forward with more speed and grace than he had been able to conjure during his wild gyration he called dancing. He grabbed my face under the chin in one of his giant hands and pulled me close to him.

"Those lips are a gift," he whispered in a deep growl. "I wonder if they are being wasted on that little flute?" He smiled lasciviously and put his other hand on my cheek.

I tried to pull my face away but my head was trapped in his stony vice. My heart rate quickened as I realized what he was planning. If I could speak I might have cried "no", or "please stop". I tried beating on his chest but the action only seemed to excite the rock man even more. I tried to squirm away but Darunia was now pushing down, lowering me to the ground, forcing me to my knees.

He put one hand on each side of my face and applied just enough pressure to my skull to silently tell me that he was strong enough to crush my head.

I am not ashamed of the tears I shed at that moment. I only wish I had stalled for ten more seconds.

* * *

Reader, it is not my intention to make you cringe. The trial did its best not to afford me the chance to explain my actions. I am left with naught but this confession to explain my reasons for the crime of genocide, among my other sins. This is not an excuse for my choices but an elucidation. You can decide for yourself if murder is fair in exchange for sodomy.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I know this chapter lacks substance and luster but I needed to get the ball rolling after my hiatus. More to come shortly. Brace yourself.**


	6. Chapter 6: Vomit

Archery came to me much more naturally than swordplay. My duties at Lon Lon Ranch had bolstered the muscles necessary to draw a bow big enough to bring down game. My deltoids, pectorals, brachiordialis and triceps had been hardened well enough to hold the recurve bow Ganondorf gifted me with. My infraspinatus, latissimus dorsi, trapezius, teres major and minor, rhomboids, biceps and brachialis were all chiseled to the point I could draw back my sixty-five pound bowstring.

An arrow, fired from a bow similar to the one appropriated from me by the court, would whisk away with a precipitancy of seventy meters per second. Fired at a forty-five degree angle an arrow, tipped in tar and set aflame, would fly for ten seconds before nesting itself in the thatched roof of a Gerudo home. For ten seconds I would watch my blazing missile descend on the unsuspecting home. The goal of the burning arrow was not as nefarious as murder. The blaze was a distraction that would outline my targets as they ran to investigate, then subsequently help. It was the naked arrows, invisible in the dark, that were dispatched for homicide.

Those ten seconds, watching my burning arrow, were the second longest ten seconds of my life. If a sentry had seen the projectile's trajectory I would have been discovered and Ganondorf may not have been rescued from that Gerudo cell. My incarceration would have happened much sooner, those Gerudo soldiers would still be alive, and Hyrule might have been better off.

The longest ten seconds of my life were those spent with Chief Darunia, several years before that flaming missile was released. As I alluded to earlier, if I had known it was only going to be ten seconds before Darunia and I were interrupted, I might have dared to stall longer.

A loyal Goron attendant burst into the Chief's private chamber. He seemed minimally perturbed by the sight before him, his King being forcibly pleasured by a weeping bairn. He cleared his throat then announced that an avalanche had sealed the entrance to their feeding grounds. Forgetting his captive mute musician, Chief Darunia stormed out of his room to address the matter of his people's pabulum.

For a moment, so shocked was I by the eternity of those ten seconds, I had forgotten this was part of the plan. I was supposed to inform the Chief that I had access to black powder, enough to clear the damage caused by the avalanche. I tried to follow after Darunia but the whelming desire to vomit overcame me. I retched on the Chief's rug, took a few tranquil breaths, accepted what had just happened, and ran after the Chief I was now plotting to kill.

The impuissant nature of my will and stomach, to my terror, foiled Ganondorf's plan. Before I could catch up to Darunia he had already sought council from his advisors. In lieu of black powder, since the Gorons did not possess any, someone had recommended the use of the local flower, crepitus flor, commonly called the "bomb flower".

I had been too slow. The Gorons had solved their own problem and had no reason to award me anything. As I watched the crepitus flor clear the avalanche Ganondorf had created the cavern of failure opened in my chest. I had endured Darunia's abuse for nothing. Or so I thought.

As the dust settled and the Gorons cheered, two legged lizards poured from the cave's opening. Despite the size of these lizards – which were larger than a dog but smaller than a Goron – the rock people fled in terror. Chief Darunia made a poor attempt to gather and calm everyone but his subjects would have none of it.

During my research on the way to Death Mountain I had read a passage that explained Goron were terribly afraid of reptiles. Long ago dragons had plagued their mountains, feeding on the people and forcing them to seek shelter below ground. One of the authors I read believed that being forced underground, into the mountain by drakes, wyverns, and dragons was what led to the evolution of the Goron race. An interesting theory, one which, had my life not traveled this specific path, I might have enjoyed studying further.

At that moment I saw a chance to make up for my failure. I went to Chief Darunia, pleading inwardly that I did not vomit while looking at him, and volunteered my services as an exterminator. At first he laughed, having thought I was playing coy. As I insisted, and as his subjects further embarrassed him, he agreed to let me assist.

I returned to Ganondorf and informed him of the new plan. Of course I emitted the ten seconds I had spent choking on Chief Darunia. Ganondorf accepted my new plan but, due to my failure to follow the first plan, ordered that I exterminate the dodongo myself. He replaced my wooden shield with a much too large steel one, offered some advice as to how best avoid being incinerated, then sent me on my way.

Unknowingly, while creating the avalanche, Ganondorf had opened a nearby cavern filled with the fire-breathing dodono lizards. By their numbers, the reptile must have been living there for quite some time, unaware of the Gorons thriving so close.

The task was arduous but with the training Ganondorf had given me I was able to eliminate the last of the reptiles including their champion "King" Dodongo. When I returned from the cave, slightly singed and reeking of sweat and lizard intestines, Chief Darunia and several of his subjects were waiting for me. They were all delighted. Ecstatic that some foreigner had solved their problem for them, and in such short notice.

Without having to ask, Chief Darunia awarded me a Goron Ruby. As I accepted the stone, he winked at me and said if I should ever want "more" I should not hesitate. I would always be welcome amongst his people. Truthfully, just as a dam struggles to hold back the river during a flood, I struggled to quell my guts.

I returned to Ganondorf with the Goron Ruby in one hand and the scorched steel shield in the other. My role model crossed his arms over his chest, nodded his head, then mounted his horse. That was the first time I had received any approval from the man. At that moment I knew I would do anything to receive it again.

It is at this point in my story that you and I met, Princess. Forgive me if you are someone other than the Princess reading this. I have referred to my reader in the "second-person" regularly at his point. Know that your discerning eyes are welcome, but these next few paragraphs are meant for Princess Zelda. She is the "you" I am concerned about most.

After I slew King Dodongo but before I released Volvagia to devour the Gorons, Ganondorf and I made our way to Castletown. I had seen several of the smaller villages in Hyrule while accompanying Ingo and later Ganondorf but I had never seen the bustling crowd that came with a city. The citadel of Castletown, deceptively named, is as you know where the majority of Hyrule's Hylian population resides. The walls that perfectly encompass the city do not do so much to keep out the poor and those of simple birth so much as the taxes and fees. Taxes which, I suspect, the bourgeois citizens of Hyrule implemented so as to forcibly separate themselves from the rabble.

I was stunned by the size of the structures, the congestion of the streets, and most of all by the merciless evolving system that was made of individuals yet relied on not a single one to thrive. Allow me to clarify.

In a small village, when a man wants to feed his family he has several options. He may take up the plow and grow crops, take his net and catch fish, or take his bow and hunt game. If he fails all three of these things he must go ask his neighbor for food, hoping that his neighbor was more successful at one of the three previously mentioned chores. He has nothing to offer his neighbor that his neighbor cannot get himself. So he is at his neighbor's mercy. Often times I witnessed the neighbor share with the man who could not grow, fish, or hunt regardless of the fact he was getting nothing in return. The neighbor shared out of a sense of brotherhood, community, friendship, or something of the sort.

In a city there is no place for a man to grow crops, catch fish, or hunt game. So instead he learns a skill such as smithing. On its own, the act of smithing does nothing to feed him or his family. He cannot eat iron and he cannot hunt with the spears or horse shoes he makes. So he takes the items he has created and brings them to a merchant. The merchant accepts the spears and horse shoes and gives the man food and coin. The merchant, who does not plow, fish, or hunt, takes the spears to the army and sells them to the armory for coin. He then takes the horse shoes and coin to the village where men plow, fish and hunt. He trades the horse shoes for crops and the coin for meat. The merchant then returns to his stall where he will trade meat and crops for spears and shoes again. Meanwhile the men who plow, hunt and fish will have to use their coin to pay their tax to the army for the protection of their village. Since these men plow, fish, and hunt they do not have the equipment or time to protect themselves so they must rely on the army. The army then uses that coin to buy spears from the merchant.

This is a very basic illustration that ignores profits but even here one can see the flaw in Castletown and Hyrule's social pyramid. The men who plow, fish, and hunt are the basis of everything. They gather the food, the very sustenance of Hyrule's citizens and yet are regarded as the lowest, most menial of beings. Meanwhile the merchant, who acts as nothing but a middle-man, a mule to carry goods from one place to the other then lie about their worth, is well regarded and best paid.

Ingo had alluded to this during my time with him, but I did not truly understand until I witnessed the cycle in the city square myself. If life were longer I would have liked to apprentice under a merchant and a craftsman if only to see the cycle from another angle. As it was, I was squire to General Ganondorf, and we were headed to the castle.

Ganondorf's presence was immediately announced as we entered the castle. The Gerudo man grimaced as trumpets hailed him too closely and servants ran forward to assist.

"Be gone!" he demanded of the squeaking servants. "My squire will attend to my needs. I don't need more than one idiot breathing my air."

I remember the servants casting wary glances towards me. The feared/revered General Ganondorf had never claimed a squire before. With pride, I discovered that I was the first.

We bowed before King Harkinian, as you no doubt remember, and then I was introduced to the King and to you.

Truthfully, Princess, you took my breath away.

"Your father," Ganondorf said addressing you from his kneeling position, "insisted that his daughter have not but the finest gem in Hyrule for her nameday."

He reached into his pocket and presented the Goron Ruby. I looked at your face, excited to witness your expression. Though I would never openly rob Ganondorf of his glory, the Goron Ruby was just as much my treasure to present to you as it was his.

In dismay I watched your perfect lips twist in disappoint.

"I don't like red," you announced to your father and the General. My presence was so small you could not have addressed me if you tried.

Ganondorf blinked. He glanced from you to the King. The King seemed to be embarrassed by your pedantic behavior. Ganondorf, choosing to save face for your father, bowed his head even further and pulled the ruby back to himself.

"Of course, your Highness," Ganondorf said in a strained voice. "The mistake was mine. Your father asked me to bring a stunning gem that would complement his beautiful daughter. I see now that I have come up short."

The King breathed a sigh of relief.

"I want a blue one!" you said putting your hands on your hips. "A sapphire that's blue like. . . like," you looked at me. "Like his eyes," you said pointing at me.

While my cheeks filled with sanguine fluid Ganondorf turned his head and looked at me. With a smirk he turned back to you and bowed again.

"I will return Princess, with a gem worthy of your blossoming beauty."

I was confused by the interaction I had just seen. In the months I had spent with Ganondorf he had never apologized to anyone. Never admitted to a mistake. As we left the castle I wondered if he truly held you and the King in such high regard.

"That fucking bitch," he spat as we walked beneath the portcullis. "Do you know what this ruby is worth?" he asked me. I did not.

Instead of answering he just shook his head.

"Come along," he said after we walked in silence for some time.

I asked him where our next destination was and if we were going to trade the ruby for a sapphire.

"If there were a stone here we could just buy, I'd have already bought it and given it to the royal trollop. We will have to go see the Zoras."

Reader, here come my next crimes. I am guilty of kidnapping, extortion, and apparently adultery. If I were to complain about any unfairness during my trial, it would concern that last crime. In what world is it fair that a Hylian can be sentenced for dishonoring a marriage that is not even recognized by Hyrule?

* * *

Muck has fallen asleep. The keys to my cell are on his waist. It is a shame he was not inclined to rest his head against the bars of my cell.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Allow me to take a moment and welcome this story back to the land of the living.**


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